


Objection!

by waketosleep



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crack, Lawyers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-11
Updated: 2010-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waketosleep/pseuds/waketosleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which lazulisong completely failed to talk me down from writing an AU where Kirk is Phoenix Wright and Spock is Edgeworth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Objection!

Jim Kirk always feels nervous before a trial.

He pretends not to, because hotshot young defense lawyers who made junior partner in their firms way too early are widely thought to fear nothing, and he knows the value of a good image. So he's always really discreet about having to duck into the washroom at the courthouse and lock himself in a stall to breathe deeply for ten minutes or until he stops feeling like he'll yak all over his case notes when he gets into the courtroom. Anyway, it makes him feel special to have a ritual.

It usually takes closer to fifteen minutes of breathing (and okay, a little quiet whimpering) before he does a murder trial, though, so he's still sitting in his stall with an eye on his Bulgari watch and his other hand rubbing absently at his temple when the washroom door swings open and two guys in shiny shoes walk in.

"I have got to get out of family law," one of the guys groans from the general direction of the urinals.

"I wouldn't do that shit even if they took out the middleman and directly paid me in hookers and blow," says the other guy in what's probably supposed to be a sympathetic tone. Lawyers. "Like I told you last week at golf, let me talk to Goldstein; I'll hook you up with a corner office and a bright future in litigation."

"Yeah, maybe. Hey, you'll probably have a recess by eleven. Do you wanna go check out Courtroom Seven? ADA Grayson's going to be tearing it up all damn day on a murder trial."

"Nah, I gotta have a little come-to-Jesus talk with my client about settling, and he should be ripe for the plucking by then." Jim hears a zipper. "Anyway, it gets old watching him chew up the defense every single case."

"I like a good bloodbath," says the first asshole over the sound of the sink running. They laugh together as they leave the washroom.

Jim gives his watch a baleful look. He's due in Courtroom Seven in five minutes and his palms have just gone clammy.

***

Jim read _The Art of War_ between keg stands while he was at Harvard; he's always pretended he did it ironically but secretly no, not at all. And it's served him well so far. Especially the rule 'know thy enemy'. He likes to get some face time in with the prosecution before trials, and he only has a few minutes really before the judge comes in, but he leaves his client fiddling with his borrowed tie and saunters over to the prosecution's bench.

"Jim Kirk," he says, sticking out his hand.

The ADA was half-turned away from Jim, talking to his assistant, but he freezes and turns around. Jim suppresses a pained little sigh when he sees Grayson's face, because the man is just far too attractive to be a state employee and wears his suit way too well. He looks down at Jim's hand and cocks an eyebrow before shaking it, once, and dropping it again.

"Spock Grayson." He glances over toward Jim's client. "I look forward to an expedient verdict."

Jim gives him Rakish Grin Number Three. "Me too! My client says the food's been terrible; he wants to go home to his cats."

Grayson blinks a couple of times before he recovers. "Justice will be served in this courtroom today," he says loftily. "I have never lost a trial and one as straightforward as this will not be an aberration."

Really, Jim can't help but admire that kind of carefree arrogance; he's been cultivating it in himself for years. "Straightforward, huh?" he says. "We'll see." He bolts back to his client just before the judge's entry is announced.

The first person the prosecution calls to the stand is the defendant, Montgomery Scott, who is thirty-two, Scottish, kind of incapable of social interaction, and definitely incapable of murder in Jim's estimation. He doesn't strike Jim as the type who even possesses the presence of mind to scrape together a decent plot and alibi in the event that someone could actually incite him to violence. Hopefully the judge and jury agree.

"Mr. Scott," Grayson starts in a calm, confident tone, "how did you know the victim?"

"We used to date. Broke up in the spring."

"Why did you terminate your relationship?"

Scott straightens. "She didn't like my cats. Told me it was her or them." He grins. "Wasn't expectin' that outcome, I don't imagine."

"To what outcome are you referring, Mr. Scott? Her murder at your hands?"

Jim is out of his chair almost before he realizes it. "Objection!" he calls, while the gallery mutters.

"Overruled," barks the judge.

"Murder at my hands?" Scott splutters. "I meant me breakin' up with her! Jesus!"

Grayson, that bastard, seems unruffled by the disruption even though it's entirely his fault, and fuck, it's only been ten minutes. Jim sags in his chair as the questions continue, watching the ADA pace as he talks.

"So you and the victim were romantically involved until approximately six months before the murder, at which point there was a disagreement revolving around your cats which helped to end the relationship on a note of distinct animosity. Did you have any contact with the victim between your breakup and her death?"

"Some, yeah. She got over the cat thing. We were sort of friendly."

"You spoke on the phone? Met in person?"

"Sometimes, yeah. Nothing notable."

Jim waits and watches and his heart skips a beat when Grayson takes a significant pause before his next question.

"Did she call you to request your presence at her apartment on the day of her murder?"

Jim holds his breath. Scott answers with a bit of a stutter. "Y-yeah. She did."

Grayson nods. "It was the first time you had spoken in some months, wasn't it, Mr. Scott?"

"Uh," says Scott, which is maybe his best response so far, Jim thinks.

"Were you aware that she had just returned the day prior from an extended trip to France to meet a long-distance lover?"

"Not until she called me, no," says Scott.

"An interesting way to learn that your ex-girlfriend has moved on from your relationship. Perhaps until you learned of her new lover, you hoped that time apart would make her forgive you for your choice in pets and come back to you." Grayson turns sharply on his heel as he paces back and forth past the prosecution's bench, spinning out his theory. "Every phone call, every meeting, made you think, 'perhaps this time'. Until she called you on the day in question and revealed her new relationship." Grayson stops and shoots Scott a piercing look. "You agreed to go to her apartment, didn't you, Mr. Scott?"

Scott shoots Jim an alarmed look in the silence of the courtroom. Jim is halfway to snapping the pencil in his hand, and sets it down carefully, giving Scott a confident smile.

"Yeah, I went over. She wanted me to fix her computer," he says, stepping into Grayson's trap.

"You went to her apartment," agreed Grayson. "You went, armed with your knowledge of how she'd betrayed your feelings, filled with hurt and jealousy over the fact that she'd moved on from you for good. And when you saw her there, you struck her down." Grayson glances at the jury for a second. "No further questions, Your Honour."

Jim stares in wonder. Oh, this guy is _good_, he thinks, and then he shakes himself and gets to his feet, because now he has to follow that understated drama with a goddamn cross-examination.

"Mr. Scott," he says, folding his hands behind his back, "have you been seeing anyone else since you dumped the victim?"

"No, I haven't. Just me and the cats and my work. Keeps me out of trouble. Well, mostly," he says, chuckling at the fact that he's on trial for second-degree murder. Scott is a piece of work.

Jim nods. "Were you consumed by jealousy when she told you about her new man? Did the green-eyed monster lead you to her apartment on the day in question?"

"Nope. I thought he sounded like a nice man, and she's--she _was_\--quite high-maintenance, so I thought, best of luck to him. I went over to her place because the sound card in her computer was buggered and she promised me a sandwich for fixing it."

"And did you kill her when you got there, Mr. Scott?" Jim asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Objection!" Grayson calls. "Questions like these waste the court's time, as does Mr. Kirk's attitude."

"Overruled; let him answer," the judge declares.

Scott shakes his head. "Did I kill her? Certainly not. She wasn't even home."

"She called you for a favour and then she wasn't home to meet you?" Jim asked. "I'd have dumped her, too."

"Well, she didn't answer her door in any case," says Scott. "Of course I haven't got a key anymore, so I couldn't check. I just left."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott. I have no further questions," says Jim.

He catches a glare from the prosecution as he makes his way back to his own bench. Jim won't lie, he feels good about being able to take apart all the hard work Grayson just did on the jury, trying to establish a motive.

The judge bangs his gavel and calls a one hour recess.

***

Jim buggers off to the cafeteria, and he's standing in front of the coffee dispenser wondering whether Family Law and Litigation from the men's room saw that tour de force and if Scott would appreciate him smuggling back a sandwich, when he suddenly realizes someone is looming at his elbow and really, it shouldn't be surprising.

"ADA Grayson," he says, turning to beam at the guy. In return, he gets a glower that is special because Grayson doesn't actually seem to move any facial muscles to create it, but it appears all the same. "Can I buy you a coffee?"

Grayson doesn't act like he even heard or understood the question, so Jim takes it as a 'no' and puts his cup of coffee on his bright red lunch tray, sliding it along the rails to the sandwich display. He snags a roast beef and swiss and after a moment's thought, grabs chicken salad for Scott too.

"Do you possess the powers of speech outside the courtroom, or are you just observing our strange human customs?" he finally asks as he pays for his lunch, because Grayson has loomed behind him all the way through the line and it's starting to get unnerving.

Grayson finally answers him as Jim leads the way to an empty table. "It is always disgraceful to watch the defense attempting to show off in front of the court," he says.

"Don't like being upstaged?" Jim asks sympathetically as he dumps three sugars into his coffee.

"I pity defendants who find themselves burdened with public defenders of your calibre. No human being should suffer for the hubris of their lawyer."

"I can't say anything about hubris," says Jim, "but I'm no public defender, thank you very much. I did Harvard Law, I'm a junior partner at Fagen &amp; Harrison and people pay a fee for hubris of my calibre." He sips his coffee; the sugar has just about disguised the shittiness.

"I will give you some free advice, Mr. Kirk: do not attempt to make a name for yourself in an unwinnable case. I have an established reputation and an undefeated record of guilty verdicts, and you are not the first to believe that 'taking me down' will gain you notoriety. Instead, I will win this trial and you will be shamed like the rest who have attempted this."

Jim unwraps his sandwich thoughtfully before he answers. "No trial is unwinnable," he says. "My client is innocent. I am going to prove it. I apologize for the fact that I'm going to take down your record in the process, but hey, you're still just an _Assistant_ District Attorney. You'll bounce back."

Grayson straightens. "DA Pike has personally mentored me," he says proudly, and oh god, Jim can just _tell_ in this moment how large Grayson's mancrush on the DA is, "and he also carries a flawless prosecution record. You will not be allowed to shame me, nor him in the process."

Jim rolls his eyes. "Look. Pike taught Jurisprudence while I was at Harvard. He personally had epic arguments with me during class and office hours about legal positivism and talked me out of going into environmental law not once but _twice_. I am pretty sure if he ever had shame, it was surgically removed several decades ago."

Jim takes a satisfied bite of his sandwich and watches Grayson sputter. Sadly, he's still wildly attractive even when he's nearly apoplectic. Jim has another reason to hope he wins this trial.

"Unbelievable," Grayson finally grinds out, standing up abruptly.

"Say hi to DA Pike for me!" Jim calls after him, and then checks out the excellent sight of his ass in tailored pants as Grayson stalks out of the cafeteria.

***

Since he's never been able to resist poking the tiger, when Jim comes out of recess to see that ADA Grayson has his game face on, he feels an exciting little thrill of horror. The smack is about to be laid down, on him, and he has to stay alert to know which way to dodge.

The ace up Grayson's sleeve turns out to be a surprise witness to the crime, or at least a witness to the defendant exiting the victim's apartment after her murder and fleeing the scene. Which has Jim fucking stumped until he remembers that he does, yes, believe that Scott is innocent, and then he goes to town on the cross-examination, picking on details until Grayson is objecting to every other word, chomping at the bit to get the testimony pushed through.

Then Jim hits on it: that goddamn clock.

It's the murder weapon, and honestly it looks like a statue. It was logged in evidence as a statue. It's a one-of-a-kind piece (thank god) built by Scott for the victim while they were still together, and although when you press a button hidden on the base it speaks the time, to any random onlooker it's just a statue. The only reason Jim knows any different is because Scott told him all about it earlier while eating his contraband chicken salad sandwich in Holding.

But the so-called witness, who claims not to have known the victim or gone inside the apartment, calls it a clock every time he mentions it.

Jim obtains the clock from evidence, shows it to the jury (mindful of the blood residue still present on one bottom corner), points out the small button to activate it and demonstrates its use. It announces the current time in Paris, in a Scottish accent, when he presses the button. The whole court is silent and thoughtful.

"How did you know it was a clock, Mr. Sahwit?" Jim quietly asks the witness, setting the murder weapon down on top of Grayson's case notes and crossing his arms.

Grayson doesn't move, but his eyes tighten, and that's enough for Jim. Sahwit starts babbling. Some more gentle prying and two inspired leaps of logic from Jim reveal that Sahwit is not, in fact, a Cutco salesman who was going through the building that day as he claims, but a thief who uses the Cutco thing as a cover to case homes, and he was inside the victim's apartment when she came home on the day of her murder. He had time to examine the clock, Jim conjectures, and it was the closest heavy thing to hand when she surprised Sahwit in her living room.

The jury takes less than an hour to come back with a 'not guilty' verdict. The court indicts Sahwit for murder instead, and he goes away in cuffs. Jim enjoys an adrenaline rush when the judge adjourns and Scott immediately gives Jim a bear hug. Jim looks over his shoulder at Grayson, who is sitting in his chair and staring blankly into space.

"Congratulations," Jim says when he walks over. "Justice was served, just like you wanted."

Grayson glares up at him.

"I told you no trial is unwinnable. You just need to be stubborn." Jim grins. "Pike taught me that, too. Not on purpose, though, which should make him feel less panicky about it."

Grayson is still glaring.

"Want to grab a drink later?" Jim asks suddenly.

That fixes the glare, all right. Grayson switches to looking stunned. "Pardon?"

"Drink," Jim repeats helpfully. "I'll buy. _Or_," he continues, feeling inspired, "we could just skip the drinks and go back to my place. That's my real reason for asking you out, anyway."

"No," says Grayson, standing up suddenly, and Jim feels disappointed that he can't win everything today, but then Grayson keeps talking. "No, I am afraid that you will have to ply me with liquor first. Particularly after today."

"I'm game," says Jim immediately, flipping a business card onto the top of Grayson's case file. "Call me later. I have to go celebrate with my client."

He catches a glimpse of Grayson arching an eyebrow and picking up his card as he turns away, and he grins.

 

THE END (NO, SERIOUSLY)


End file.
